


A Question of Identity

by Agent C (arh581958)



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: #capimanniversarybingo, 2018 Stony MCU Bingo, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Alternate Universe - Pre-Canon, First Meeting, First Meetings, Identity Reveal, M/M, Pre-Avengers (2012), Pre-Relationship, Pre-Slash, Secret Identity, Steve POV
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-21
Updated: 2018-05-21
Packaged: 2019-05-09 19:03:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14721836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arh581958/pseuds/Agent%20C
Summary: Steve wants to know the identity of the man who saved him from the ice.





	A Question of Identity

**Author's Note:**

> **Warning** : Not Beta Read. Spoilery tags below.
> 
> Written for 2018 Stony MCU Bingo >> Guess the square, my card's down below!

Brown—a mesmerizing and deeply rich color that was both vibrant and sober at the same time. It was but a faint memory, more akin to a hallucination that reality save for the Steve’s inner alpha finally finding its mate.

“Stay with me, Capsicle,” A surprisingly commanding voice ordered Steve. “We’re getting you out of here.”

 _Who are you?_ The question remained unasked.

Steve’s frozen lips refused to move; and, when they warmed enough to move, a loud high-pitched whizzing noise drowned out every other sound. The light went dark again.

In the moment that came after, Steve woke-up in a strange place disguised as an ordinary bedroom. It would have worked if not for the _Philly’s vs. Dodgers_ game they chose to play on the radio. There was no one else alive to know that Steve had watched it live back in May 1941.

A curly-haired beta red-head refused to give him the answers he needed. Black-suited men came rushing into his confinement. Steve burst through a fake wall, out of the building, and into a brave new world which he knew absolutely nothing about.

“At ease, soldier!” Someone ordered—alpha in scent, and military-like in its precision.

Every single one of Steve’s alpha instincts demanded that he fight, but he had trained himself to reign it in when being given orders. He looked around.

“Look, I’m sorry about that little show back there,” a bald, one-eyed black man, wearing a trench-coat spoke to him. “We thought it best to break it to you slowly.”

“Break what?”

“You’ve been asleep, Cap—for almost seventy years.”

Seventy-years; the words dawned on Steve like the slow rising sun. He had been asleep for so long…? That was something to thank the serum for. If not the hypothermic waters, the ice’s freezing temperatures should have killed him, but it didn’t. Instead, his body went to sleep.

“You going to be okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, I just—” he briefly remembered the last promise he made, “—I had a date.”

The man behind him snickered. “If a date’s all you want, Captain. I’m sure we can set that up.”

“And who are _you_ exactly?”

“In 1949, the SSR was officially absorbed by a new autonomous deep-science agency to fight against the Hyrda. Founders Chester Phillips, Howard Stark, and Margaret Carter gave it an abnormally long name, but they still preferred to call it _SHIELD_.”

Steve cocked his head to the side. “And what are you, the Director or something?”

“Me?” The man’s eye enlarged with laughter. “Aww, hell, no. I wouldn’t touch that with a ten-pole stick. The name’s Fury. I’m just the welcoming party. Consider yourself welcomed. Now, let’s get our asses back to base before we send the Men-In-Black to _neutralyze_ this whole block. Did you have to pick Time’s Square of all places? It’s fucking cliché.” 

Fury wasn’t wrong either.

Steve took in everything about the new world around him—the towering buildings that threatened to touch the heavens, the square filled with large colored moving pictures on nearly every corner, and the bustling streets swarmed with cards and people—but it was a pair of dark brown eyes which haunted him.

SHIELD, as it turned out, was a larger more weaponized version of the old SSR. It tried its best to help Steve through the process. But, how does one cope with being thrust into a future where everything he had loved and cherished was buried in forgotten rubbles of history?

Steve was a man out of time. His life was a small price to pay for period of peace—not matter how short it may be. That didn’t mean that Steve wasn’t lonely. The first Saturday night that he could, he walked to 3 West 51st Street. Coming here had been a risk, and yet his heart still sunk when where he saw the once iconic Stork Club doors replaced by that of a non-profit organization.

Dejected, Steve turned to leave. It was a little before eight. He can catch dinner back at headquarters.

“Rogers?”

Steve’s head snapped to the source of the voice. Something about it held a hint of familiarity, and yet a stranger in a pair of dark aviator shades greeted him. The man had tussled dark-brown hair and a sculpted beard. When Steve scented the air, he smelled nothing.

“Who are you?”

“Your boss—well, technically, that one-eyed pirate’s boss—since you’ve yet sign a new employment contract. 1940s laws are so outdated, but I’m pretty sure that ‘inactive’ means you’re out of the job. Unless, of course, you want to be hunted down by those numbskulls who are going to track Erskine’s super serum again. You’ll never see the sun from beyond the lab’s glass windows. Or, be my guest, if that’s your scene.”

Steve opened his mouth to say something, but again he was cut off.

“Mr. Stark!” Another voice yelled, male and beta. A man fitted in a simple black work suit came rushing out of a black town car, out of breath and panting. “Mr. Stark! You gave me a heart attack. You said you were only getting a burger.”

“I didn’t lie,” said Mr. Stark, lifting up a nondescript paper bag. “I got a burger. Here it is. Now, you, Happy need to do more cardio if a ten-meter print tires you out. Maybe we should change the Lincoln for a rickshaw and give you some more exercise. Great idea, actually, we can go through central park in that.” He tapped his ear twice.  “Jarvis, have Pepper put rickshaw in the procurement list—an authentic one from China.”

All this happened in barely a minute. Mr. Stark turned to Steve again as if nothing happened. “Where were we, Captain? Ahh, yes, jobs—I was in the middle of offering you one.”

“Stark—as in Howard Stark? You don’t…”

Stark frowned. “Dear old dad, yeah. Wouldn’t shut-up about working with America’s first superhero—the first Avenger. Avenger. Pfft. What a name. You know, he never stopped looking for you after you went down in the ice. Kept looking all over the world until the day he died. He didn’t find you though.”

 _Then, who did_?

Steve wanted to ask, but Happy interrupted once more with a mobile thrust into Stark’s hand and a mumbled, “It’s for you.”

“Pepper?” Stark chastised his chauffer. “You called Pepper?”

Happy shook his head. “Coulson called me.”

Steve knew that name, but the information didn’t match-up.

“Great.” Even with his eyes hidden, Steve heard the eye-roll. Stark took the offered device and put it to his ear. “Hey there, Agent Agent. What’s the sitch? Tell me which lab is on fire. I’ll send down a unit—what? Huh?” Stark theatrically put a hand over the receiver and asked Steve. “Your babysitter is looking for you.”

Steve blinked in shock. “I’m sorry. My what?”

“Yeah, no. He’s here. I’ve got him.” Stark raised a palm to silence Steve, without looking at him. “Well, then, tell Fury to get him a fucking leash or something! We’ve got nanotech trackers for exactly this sort of thing. No need for the quinjet. I’m taking him to the tower.”

Stark tossed the phone over his shoulder after the call ended. “You,” he said, pointing to Steve, “with me, chop-chop—unless you want another black-cars-surrounding-you-scene like the one from Time Square. If you’re smart, Captain, I suggest you come along.” He left without turning back around, leaving Steve no choice but to follow.

“Mr. Stark, I don’t—”

A loud hiss wheezed from the door panels, and the car was momentarily engulfed in translucent white smoke. Steve instinctively clutched the door handle. The unreinforced metal stood no chance, bending like putty in his fingers. It was too late when he recognized it.

“Neutralizers,” he said dumbly.

“Ding, ding, ding! Pointing out the obvious for three hundred.” Stark teased, unfazed at his car’s damaged door handle. “Though, you might want to ease up the grip there, Cap. Happy doesn’t like it when you mess with his car. It’s like his baby.”

From the rearview mirror, the beta’s eyes shot daggers in Steve’s direction.

“God, you’re like Coulson and that Corvette of his. Look, don’t pout. It’ll be good as new in a few days. Now, be good and put up the blinds. The Captain and I have business to discuss.” Stark ordered once the smoke cleared. Then, he turned towards Steve, still with his aviators on, nonchalant as can be. “Burger?”

Steve stared at the foil-wrapped object in Stark’s hand, confused. “No, thank you, Mr. Stark. I’m sorry. I don’t understand what you want from me.”

“You really don’t want the burger? Best employment offer you’re going to get.” Stark made sure. With the blinds up, his expression shifted. “Nothing beats an American cheese burger but this—” he whistled as be opened the aromatic package in his hands, “—takes the cake.”

Steve was more that confused. “What does that even mean? Where are we going? Who are you?”

“Not a burger person then. Fondue? Do you like Fondue? Aunt Peggy loved fondues—the cheese more than the chocolate kind. A waste if you ask me. Chocolate and strawberries are the best.” Stark waggled his brows behind the shades. “We could take a detour if you feel like fondue. That’s in Hell’s Kitchen though. I’m sure that Agent won’t mind you getting acclimated.”

“Peggy?” Steve swallowed hard. “Peggy Carter’s your aunt?”

Stark snorted. “Of course, she is. What, did you think she’d be my mother? Sorry to burst your bubble, cap, but those two never banged. Aunt Peggy was too much of an alpha for dear old dad. Nope, he married a beta. Dad and Aunt Peggy mostly got along because of you, you know. They never stopped trying to find you.”

“Did she… I mean… of course she would she was…” Steve wrung his hands together. “She was great.”

“Got married, got two kids. She’s got Alzheimer’s. Though, that doesn’t stop her from working. Drives her doctors mad with all the papers on her bed. I’m surprised that you came here instead of her address on file—” Stark paused abruptly, as if he realized something. “... you don’t have her file, do you? SHIELD hasn’t given you anything?”

Very slowly, Steve nodded his head.

“Well, fuck.” Stark muttered under his breath. “Now, it makes sense why you haven’t visited her. Bet Fury’s got Widow tailing you too—tall, curvy, red-haired alpha woman that can pass-off as a beta? What did she introduce herself as—Natasha? Natalia? Natalie?”

“Natasha Romanov.” Steve remembered exactly the tough-as-nails woman whom Stark referred to. They were introduced within the week of his reawakening.

Stark hummed from behind his shades, thinking. “Good. No aliases, better. I’m assuming you’re at least crossed paths with Barton. He likes to shoot people from the vents.” He glanced towards Steve, who nodded. “That leaves Brucie-bear then. He’s not technically SHIELD—yet, but he’s part of the Initiative. I’ll seduce him with science once he’s back from India.”

Steve just about had it with the enigmatic Mr. Stark, and all the random names that Mr. Stark was spewing out. “Mr. Stark, but I still don’t understand how you know all this. How do you fit in the picture?”

The car slowed to a stop in a spacious non-descript underground garage.

“We’ve arrived,” Happy announced from the other side of the blinds.

“Looks like that’s our cue.” Stark tucked the discarded foil back into the oil-stained paper bag. His door opened with another hiss of neutralizing spray, allowing the blinding fluorescent lights to enter the shadowed car.

Steve’s side of the door refused to budge. It left him with no choice but to crawl over to Stark’s side of the car and exit from there. As he passed the car’s soft interior leather, his nose caught a whiff of a tantalizing fragrance before neutralizers took effect.

Omega, his mind screamed, his omega.

That was impossible.  

Stark wasn’t—could he...?

Once outside, the whole range scents immediately assaulted Steve’s senses—a dozen or more alpha, and single omega. It was a different omega scent, which came from a blond-haired man with a crooked nose.

Stark stood in front of the assembled team.

“Nick,” he addressed the man in the middle. “Is the grand welcome party for me or lost little Goldielocks back there? A yellow canary told me that you’ve been withholding vital information.”

Fury narrowed his eye. “We thought it best to break it to the Captain slowly.”

“We?” Stark questioned, voice dark.

Fury tightened his jaw. “ _I_ thought it best to ease Captain Rogers into the future.”

Stark, despite being a few centimeters shorter than Fury, glowered menacingly. “Now, what were my orders to you, Assistant Director Fury? Hmm, no? Not gonna answer me? Anyone in class who wants to get points?”

The blond omega’s hand shot up. “ _Pull it off like a band-aid_ —ouch! Nat! What the hell did you kick me for?”

“That was a rhetorical question, Clint.” Natasha hissed something Russian-sounding under her breath. “He wasn’t really asking!”

“Well! Then Stark shouldn’t have phrased it that way!” Clint rubbed his sore shin. “A question’s a question. What’s a damn rhetorical-thingy anyway. English is hard. Besides, he said brownies. You know I love brownies. Next best thing to Pizza.”

“Barton,” the familiar Agent named Coulson intoned from beside the blond. “Please shut-up before I taser you again. You remember how that ended up last time.”

“You mean fizzed out of my mind in my own—mhpff!” Both Coulson and Natasha covered Clint’s mouth. They sent twin nods to Fury and Stark’s direction. Steve increasing became more confused as a shout-out battled ensued.

“You were supposed to tell him!”

“He was in shock from the ice!”

“The neurologist didn’t find anything wrong with his brain.”

“Psych says he has PTSD. You’re familiar with it.”

“Yeah, I am, and I fought through it.”

“Not everyone’s like you.”

“Because I’m such a special snow flake.”

“You tasked me with building the team.”

“And how’s that working out? Two for five, plus one handler. That’s not even half.”

“It’s not going to come together overnight. I just wanted to give him some time.”

“Now, look! All he has is questions but no answers!”

“Enough!” Steve growled, using his alpha-voice. He had enough. It was true. There were so many dizzying questions inside his head and he wanted answers, but one question in particular burned brighter than the rest. “Mr. Stark, who the _hell_ are you?”

On cue, an alarm rang throughout the whole facility.

“What the hell is that?” Steve bellowed over the deafening sirens.

Stark turned to Fury with a smug unimpressed grin. “See? This is what you get for _breaking it to him slowly_ ,” he mocked, tapping his ear twice before rerouting his focus to the problem at large. “Read it to us. J. What have we got?”

At Stark’s command, the siren quieted and the lights dimmed enough for a cylindrical hologram to be displayed. Every member of the team stood in a small semi-circle.

“ _Sir,_ ” a disembodied voice with a British accent echoed from the ceiling, “ _There’s been a disturbance at the_ Maria Stark Krebs-Stiftung _gala in Stuttgart. It appears to be a man—”_ the screen showed multi-camera footage of a long-haired brunette man striding through venue _, “—but biological composition origins are unknown. High possibility of extra-terrestrial life.”_

“Target?” Stark asked.

“ _Unknown as of the moment, sir. Tracking in progress._ ”

“Good, keep us updated.”

The hologram faded as the lights brightened.

A look passed—Fury looked to Coulson, who looked to Natasha, who looked to Clint, who gave a thumbs-up sign at Stark. That still didn’t give Steve the answers he sought.

Stark gave them orders one by one, starting with Natasha. “Widow, wheels up in less than five. One assault, two med, three evac and support.” Then, Clint and Coulson, “Hawkeye, Agent, eyes and ears on the ground. Ready for civilian evac.” And finally, Fury. “You’ve got eyes in the sky. Call it from above.”

“And, you?” Steve couldn’t help but wonder what role Stark played into the plan, as the rest of the team scattered.

Stark grinned cockily. “I’m the best part of the plan.”

He activated something in the middle of his chest, then his clothes seemingly melted away into a liquid-like golden metal that solidified into an armor around his body. The final step was his face which was covered by a pair of glasses.

Stark took off his aviators.

Blue met brown.

Steve hitched his breath when he saw the mesmerizing and vibrant deeply rich color of Stark’s eyes—but, it only lasted for a few seconds as face plate formed. The faint memory of his rescue reemerged from his memories. He recognized the red-and-gold suit which carried him out from the ice.

Stark didn’t have time for reunions, so it seemed.

“Everybody ready?” he asked the mostly empty room, voice slightly distorted. It was the same voice that Steve remembered hearing in his haze.

One by one, the team’s replies came through the speakers.  

“Bridge secure,” said Fury.

“Jets ready,” followed Natasha.

“Location set,” confirmed Coulson.

“Ready to light’em wings up, boss,” declared Clint.

“Doing good on time, everyone. Chop-chop, let’s get this show on the road. Last one there has to do clean-up!” Stark’s grin was audible behind his mask. He glanced towards Steve’s direction one more time before firing up his thrusters. He sent Steve a faux two-fingered salute. “Iron Man, headed out!”

“Yes, Director Stark, sir!” Everybody yelled after him.

**Author's Note:**

> ***
> 
> If you have a prompt or an idea, you As always, kudos/comments/bookmarks are all appreciated by this author. I take comments as extra-kudos and I do read the bookmark tags (some are really fun).
> 
> If you have a prompt or an idea, you can INSPIRE ME on tumblr. Or TALK TO ME.


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